


Make A Little Conversation

by larrytheship



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, anyway moving on to actual tags, stuffed with pain, this is purely self-indulgent fluff, with a side of love for any of you that choose to read said self-indulgent fluff, wow where to start, wrapped in sleep deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:38:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrytheship/pseuds/larrytheship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They’ve grown, they’ve grown so much. Harry sometimes wonders if they’ve grown too much. This promo appearance he’s being herded over to the UK for kind of proves his point. This appearance will be the longest he’s ever gone without Louis. It might sound pathetic, especially considering the “mound of shit they’ve gone through” (thanks Niall), it’s still daunting for Harry. Hell, it’s daunting for Louis as well, he’s even whipped out correct usage of the comma in a text.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry and Louis are separated by an ocean and two phone screens for a month. Louis writes songs in LA, Harry looks at how far they've come, where they might go and who they are. A few texts, a wave of nostalgia and a late-night conversation over the phone are all they need to remind themselves of where their homes are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make A Little Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiii it's 2:00am and I am officially a shell of a human, who needs sleep? This is a drabble based off of a conversation I saw on tumblr thanks to lululawrence, so it's like a remix of Home and Photograph, except with words, you feel? Anyway this is probably (definitely) too long now so I'm going to stop rambling.
> 
> (also this is the first time I've ever written anything remotely fandom/ fanfic related, so any constructive criticism is really welcome)
> 
> (also you can find me on tumblr at larrytheship)
> 
> (also if you give this kudos you'll find money under your pillow from the fic fairy, karma's a thing i promise) :))

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we will now begin our descent into London Heathrow.”

Craning his neck, Harry stared out of the plane window, watching the world rush towards him through a tiny window. England.

He presses his nose against the glass as the plane skims over fields. This is his favourite part, watching the rolling patchwork sea of greens that cradled lakes of pale blue and aquamarine. They remind him of home. Slowly but surely, the countryside becomes tiny, toy-town villages, tucked away in the swirling blue-green. Harry smiles, thinking of his own tiny village in Cheshire. Eventually, the villages begin to bulge, spilling over into sprawling grey cities that begin to devour the greenery. London.

Turning away from the window and letting out a heavy sigh through his nose, Harry thunks his head back on the soft headrest, letting his eyes slip shut. All the other lads (and Liam) are back in LA, finishing off a song for the album whilst Harry’s being shipped back to London for another appearance. Don’t get him wrong, he loves performing, loves the fans more than anything in the world. It’s just…he’s flagging. They all are. He sees it in the speckles of coffee stains on Niall’s shirts, he sees it in the ever-present dark rings under Liam’s eyes. He sees it in every corner, curve and crevice of Louis. It’s always there, the exhaustion that weighs upon their shoulders despite their warm smiles and tired laughs. He doesn’t think he could give performing up forever, but they all need rest.

As the plane begins to dip a little, he thinks of London, of what’s waiting for him at the airport. Dark nights and loud music and camera lights that cast his silhouette into the cold black gleam of getaway cars. He can already feel the bright white flash of cameras burning the insides of his eyelids. 

Nope, no sad thoughts; happy vibes today, Styles. Shimmying around in his seat a little (he can throw some crazy shapes despite Liam’s vulgar lies and slander about his moves) he eventually manages to fish out his phone from his spray-on white skinny jeans. Tapping quickly, he sends a brief life signal to the boys before hovering over Louis’ name.

He taps it and types slightly - ever so slightly - slower.

**Just about to land, don’t get up to too much without me :))**

Harry dicks around on his phone for a while, glancing every now and then out of the window. The soft purple of twilight blankets the land below as the April sunshine disappears over the horizon. It turns the green hills into soft grey shadows, the lakes into darker grey, like wisps of smoke.

His phone pings cheerfully, startling Harry out of his gloomy reverie.

_come on love, you and i both know i’m not going to get up to much while you're gone ;)_

Harry lips quirk up as he taps away again.

**I know, according to E! i’m the Golden Boy of music. Unlike you :P**

Harry clicks send, slumping further into his seat. Of course Louis was Harry’s golden boy, but Louis already knows that.

_cheeky :P_

**:P :P :P**

_:P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P_

Harry groans. He groans because for some unknown reason, he’s fallen in love with a five-year old.

**You’re such a dingbat.**

_but you loooove meeee_

_:P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P :P_

Harry smiles properly for the first time since he left Louis,the boys and LA.

**God knows why**

**isn’t it 2am over there??**

_yeah_

_i miss you, Harry._

Oh god, Louis’ cracked out the proper punctuation. The smile slips from the boy’s face, dragging the corners of his mouth down into a frown. Proper punctuation aside, Harry can tell this is taking a toll on Louis as well. It’s not just because they're separated; it's because they’re not fresh-faced lust-drunk teens anymore, giddy on infatuation and glued to each other’s side. They’ve grown, they’ve grown so much. Harry sometimes wonders if they’ve grown too much. This promo appearance he’s being herded over to the UK for kind of proves his point. This appearance will be the longest he’s ever gone without Louis. It might sound pathetic, especially considering the “mound of shit they’ve gone through” (thanks Niall), but it’s still daunting for Harry. Hell, it’s daunting for Louis as well, he’s even whipped out correct usage of the comma in a text.

**I miss you too, Lou.**

_it’s only a month, H_

_i swear it’ll get easier._

**I guess.**

Harry knows it won’t.

_chin up, it’s alright :)))_

**love you Lou xx**

_love you too, H xx :)_

Harry looks out at the window again, the land below now devoid of colour and drenched in sepia. There’s still an hour to go before he lands.

*******

Hours later, Harry belly flops onto the hotel bed with rumpled clothes and a long sigh. He curls into a ball, waiting for familiar laughter and rush of wind and a body flinging itself on top of his, clinging to his back. Then Harry remembers that Louis isn’t here. Right.

Face-planting the bed, he inhales, feeling the sting unfamiliar washing powder in his nose. Harry sneezes before sitting up, leaning back on his hands and staring at the ceiling. He blows a lock of hair off his face.

Like, he can deal with Louis and him being away, he’s a strong, independent man. Beyoncé taught him well. It’s just…

Harry sits up sharply and shakes his head wildly, as if doing so will clear the impending spiral of melancholy thoughts already whirling around in his head. He scrubs his hands down his face, trying to wipe off the grime of an eleven-hour flight. Harry pauses, reconsidering that shower he thought of earlier. He stands up, quickly whipping his shirt off and cautiously sniffing at it before balking. Oh yes, he's definitely reconsidering that shower.

His phone suddenly lights up, bathing the rapidly darkening room in an eerie blue glow as it buzzes for his attention. He grabs it and flips it around, his own face lighting up as he read a string of texts from Louis.

_still high with a little feeling_

_i see the smile as it starts to creep in_

_it was there, i saw it in your eyeeessss :)))_

“The fuck?” Harry stares at his phone, dumbstruck before realisation dawns upon him.

**beautiful lyrics Lou <33**

_you wound me, what if those were just spontaneous love texts???_

_**yes dear** _

__sarcasm as well? i'm filing for divorce_ _

_**Louis love, a) we're not married (unfourtunately) and b) as beautiful as those lyrics are, I would rather you were actually sleeping at 4am your time** _

__can't make me :)_ _

__

Harry rolls his eyes and settles back further into the pillows, sighing.

The phone stays silent for a minute as Louis types, the ellipsis the only thing moving in the dim room. Those three dots and an ocean are the only things separating Harry from Louis, yet it isn't the distance that bothers Harry, per se. Those three small dots mean that Harry can't see the three small words that Louis conveys every single day, without fail. Louis won't always speak the words out loud, but Harry knows. Harry hears the words around the crinkles by Louis' eyes as he watches Harry laugh, in the delicate flutter of butterfly kisses against his skin, in the way their fingers lace together and within the circle of their arms. On and around and within, over and over again, they knew each other inside out.

....

Except Louis isn't there to see. Harry can't read the emotions that flit across his face and the thoughts that flicker behind his eyes. His lovely golden boy.

Harry's phone chirps, awakening Harry from his thoughts. Picking up his phone, a small grin begins to grow as a message pops up, replacing the ellipsis.

_but you like the lyrics, yeh? niall thinks they’re a tad love-creepy :///_

**The lyrics are absolutely gorgeous, pet. Also tell Niall that he has no authority, I’ve seen his drunk ballads to Liam’s massage-ball >:D**

_niiiiice >:)_

_….i can think some balls i’d like to massage though ;)_

**OH MY GOD**

**Louis you saucy devil >:)**

_christ, only you would would find jokes like that funny, haz :D_

**which is why you love me :)**

_god knows why_

_**heyyyy that's my line!** _

__the world's a cruel place babe_ _

__

Harry allowed himself a small smile, because Louis was right but so very, very wrong.

**brb, love you xx**

_love you too H, call me once you’re settled xx_

*******

At long last, Harry finally sinks into the crisp white pillows, boneless and weary. He dials the number on autopilot, a combination of digits that have been lodged in his memory since he was sixteen. Even without Louis, he is around and within Harry, inked into his skin and flitting through his mind. The lad leans over to flick the light off, the low orange light winking out into darkness as the tone begins to drone.

“Hey love, how’s London?” Louis’ voice, soft with sleepiness, mumbles and muddles it’s way through the line. Harry beams like the idiot he is, snuggling further into the pillows with his phone squished between his ear and the sheets.

“Hiiii,” Harry drawls sleepily. “London’s…” Slightly dismal. Lonely. A little claustrophobic. “Fine.”

“Harry.”

“Louis.” Harry throws the ball back into Louis’ court, tries to make him laugh. The line hisses as Louis sighs, and Harry imagines the line wavering, about to snap. God, he feels like he's about to snap. He hates this, hates how all of Louis’ frustration is packed into his name, how all of own his sadness is stuffed into Louis’.

“Harry, talk to me, goddamnit.” Louis’ fierce voice sounds so small through the phone. It unnerves Harry when he knows that Louis could light up rooms, stages, entire stadiums with that same voice. It doesn’t help.

“It’s kind of hard to when I’m four thousand miles away Lou.” Harry snaps, throwing an arm over his eyes and tries to drown out the darkness and make it his own.

Silence reigns for four long seconds, each one passing across the miles that separated them.

“Haz?” Now Louis’ voice is no more than a murmur, a wisp of smoke on a spring breeze. Delicate and just as fleeting.

“Yeah, I’m here Lou.” Harry shudders out a breath, arm still flung over his face. “I just want you here, but that’s obviously not going to happen anytime soon.”

“You obviously haven’t checked your jean pockets then.” The boy’s ears prick up, hearing Louis’ mischievous smirk.

“What’re you going on about?” Harry crawls to the edge of the bed and scoops up his jeans, rootling through his pockets until he comes across a crumpled, ink-stained page.

“I slipped it into your pocket before you left.” Louis announces triumphantly, obviously very pleased with himself. Now Harry thinks of it, Louis had been paying quite a lot of attention to Harry's arse as he walked out the door of their LA house. Flipping the page over, Harry’s heart leaps into his throat as he reads what are obviously lyrics to a song.

“Louis, is this…”

“Yeah.” All of Louis’ bravado has disappeared in seconds, his voice wavering on the line even though the connection's strong. Harry begins to read.

_So long I’ve been waiting_

_To let go of myself and feel alive_

The phone is silent as Harry scans the page over and over again. Not even Louis’ breathing breaks the time freeze (actually, Harry wonders whether the other lad's breathing at all). His eyes dart around the page, phrases whirling around his head that make his stomach do somersaults.

_Baby, we could be enough._

“Louis?”

_It’s alright_

“Yeah?”

_I’ll be your light_

“You’re phenomenal.”

_You’ll never feel like you’re alone_

_I’ll make this place your home._

Harry finishes reached the end of the page, stunned. Louis’ lyrics have always been exquisite, and Harry has always admired the way he peels back his layers to get them just right, but this…this was indescribable. It just

_was._

“Louis, this is everything.”

“Thanks, H.” Louis voice cracks, whether from emotion or from the distance Harry can’t tell, but he can definitely guess.

“Is it about us? Like, is it about you and I?” Harry asks tentatively. None of the songs have ever been this explicitly about them before.

A moment’s pause, then:

“Who the fuck else am I going to write about, you wally?”

For the first time in two days, Harry lets out a pure laugh, a deep belly laugh that mingles with the sound of traffic on the street and carries on until he cries. Louis joins in as well, their laughter meshing and overlapping and weaving in and out of each other. For a moment it's almost like Louis is actually with Harry, within and without.

Harry finally recovers after a while, wiping his eyes and letting out one last spell of giggles. “I really do love you rather a lot.”

“I am pretty great, aren’t I?” Louis’ voice muses down the phone. Harry rolls his eyes.

“Louis!”

Louis clears his throat, his voice suddenly switching to serious, floating in low tones and curling in the shell of the other boy's ear. “You have no idea how relieved I am that you like it, Harry.”

Yes, of course, I always do. You know that, Lou," Harry murmurs softly.

There's a silence as the two boys contemplate the future. This month, this year, next year, the year after that, the year after that, the year after that… A far off, distant Thing, yet each second that passes was once a distant second. Harry can’t think of anyone else he’d rather approach the future with than Louis.

Harry knows Louis, and vice-versa. They know each other inside out, back-to-front, upside-down and in different languages. He knows Louis doesn’t wear socks because he wears holes through them at the speed of light. He knows what Louis’ lips taste like in the morning and at night. He knows that Louis’ favourite time of day is late morning, when the sun burns away the morning fog. Harry doesn’t fully know future Louis yet, he can only conjour up a rough sketch of him, but that’s okay. 

“Louis?”

“Hm?” A soft hum through the phone, distant and familiar.

“I think we’re much more than enough.”

“Of course we are, H.” Louis mumbles fondly.

Harry shifts, nestling into the cloud of covers and begins to drift off to sleep. “But I think we could be everything.”

“Well, we’re well on our way love.” Harry smiles gently as he hears Louis’ quiet laugh tinkle in his ear.

Home for Harry will never be London, with its blaring lights and screams and cracked pavements that freeze over at night. Neither is it Holmes Chapel, not anymore. It isn’t even emerald hills, calm lakes or country walks. No. Home is eyes of pale blue and aquamarine, scruffy hair and soft eyes, warm breath and cinnamon scent.

“I’ll be there soon Harry,” Louis murmurs softly into the phone, the static warping his voice slightly.

“I know, Lou. It’s just…” Harry sighs, running a hand through his greasy, tousled curls.

“A whole month. I know, love.” He hears a rush of static as Louis mirrors his sigh through the phone, reminding him of the thousands of miles between them.

“Just…..wait for me to come home.” Louis eventually whispers, tenderness leaking from every blurred syllable that seeps through the phone.

A small smile spreads across Harry’s in the darkness then, because Louis doesn’t have to tell him. He knows that Louis will always come back to him, because Harry is Louis’ home, just as much as Louis is Harry’s. Each boy falls asleep to the sound of the other’s steady breathing, both knowing that there’s a new way to say I love you in six words.

_I’ll make this feel like home._


End file.
